


By Any Other Name

by anupalya



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Bromance, F/M, Gen, Possession, Vague descriptions of violence, incubus, the demon loves Hilda, very silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 09:29:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18938152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anupalya/pseuds/anupalya
Summary: It was innocent enough, in the beginning.Well.As innocent as anything could get with a sex demon involved.





	By Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [singingsweet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingsweet/gifts).
  * Inspired by [All the Clouds Have Cleared](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18483082) by [singingsweet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingsweet/pseuds/singingsweet). 



> First: this story is a birthday present for the one and only singingsweet, who is the best big sister I could ever have asked for, and more (and a phenomenal writer, so go check out her work!). I love you.
> 
> Now. I know that some of you, if you are familiar with my very small selection of stories, might be wondering where the hell I’ve been. The short answer is that life is complicated and I am coping the best I can. I don’t know when I will be able to return to my Destiel fics, and I haven’t written anything in ages (which will probably show here, although I Did My Best). Thank you all for your patience and support.
> 
> This is a very silly birthday present indeed, based off a series of conversations with singingsweet on how the incubus possessing Cee (she calls him “Marco” in her fics, and I have accepted that headcanon here) is basically a fuckboy in vans with a ukelele, and how a bromance between Marco and the incubus really is inevitable. Full disclosure -- all of my knowledge of ANYTHING Sabrina-related (except the ‘90s show, which I watched up to the college years) is secondhand. I tell you, singingsweet makes vicarious feels TOO DAMN EASY to catch!  
> Ready? Onward!

It was innocent enough, in the beginning.

Well.

As innocent as anything could get with a sex demon involved.

***

“Gregory.”

**No.**

“Arthur.”

**Seriously??**

“Jonathan.”

**Nope. And maaaaybe the fact that ‘Jonathan’ a biblical name should have been your first clue?  Just saying.**

“Um….Henry?”

**...are you kidding me.**

“Well, you won’t give me any clues!”

**That’s kinda the point, dude.  But by all means, please continue your riveting impression of** **_The Name Book,_ ** **as narrated by a washing machine.**

“Oh, fuck off.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Marco started violently, then gasped as his head cracked against the shelf directly above him.  Dust rained down, grit immediately pouring into his eyes and filling his nose. He first flailed, sneezed four times, stumbled back from the bookshelf, and dropped his dustcloth, all in rapid succession.  Then, with remarkable dexterity, he pinwheeled backwards over a wastebasket.

**...Dude.** **_Dude_ ** **.**

Blinking blearily up at the love of his life, Marco resigned himself to the inevitable.

**Fuck, man, I can’t even laugh, that was so awful.  You know how much you’ve fucked up when a literal DEMON is beyond schadenfreude.**

Marco sighed and ignored the vaguely horrified voice in favor of Hilda Spellman descending upon him.

**No, seriously.  That was the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen you do, and I was with you through the Dry Spell.**

“You were the reason for the Dry Spell.” Marco muttered as Hilda fussed.

“Oh, darling!  Oh, Lilith Below, are you injured?” Hilda began pawing at the back of his head for lumps and easing him up to a sitting position.  After she leaned Marco back against the opposite shelf, Hilda perched on the carpet before him, arms crossed.

“You’ve been talking to the incubus again, haven’t you?”

“Well, I-”

“ _ Haven’t you,  _ dearest?” Her legendary glare was framed by one perfectly arched, eloquent eyebrow.

Dammit.

Marco couldn’t lie to that eyebrow.

“Yes, all right?” he sighed.  “I’m just...trying to guess his name.”

Hilda’s eyes went wide.

“Cee,  _ please _ , for the love of all that’s unholy, tell me you haven’t made a deal with him.  You know Rumpelstiltskin was a cautionary tale, don’t you?”

“What?  No, of course I haven’t -- wait, really?”

“Yes!”  Hilda sat back on her haunches and chortled despite herself at the sweet picture her lover made, leaned up against the shelf and wincing.   _ Poor lamb.  _ Sobering slightly, she reached across the floor to the tray she had set down in her efforts to help him.  Drawing it towards herself, she plucked a small cupcake from the edge and handed it to Marco.

“I suppose it’s a good thing I had these already whipped up.  I’d specifically formulated them for your joints, since I know there’s a storm coming in - oh no, don’t you try and deny it, I’ve seen you wince your way up the stairs when it rains and it’s entirely unnecessary - but they should take care of any bruising as well.”

Marco, who had already bitten into his treat, groaned appreciatively as the tension and aches began to abate.  Hilda smiled fondly as he chewed and bit off more with renewed vigor, a bit of icing catching on the tip of his nose.

“Darling...do you know why the incubus refuses to tell you his name?”

Marco paused before the next bite.

“Not really.  I thought he was just being difficult.  He really is a little ass, you know.

**I resent that.  But hey, speaking of ass-**

“It’s because you need to know his name to banish him.”

A stillness fell upon them, their eyes drawn to the Damascus bracelet.  It glinted on his wrist, which would have been innocuous enough if they hadn’t been sitting in the shadow of the surrounding shelves.

Hilda raised a hand to caress Marco’s wrist.  Stroking her thumb down his forearm, she sighed.

The demon purred at her touch, and Marco couldn’t find it in himself to disagree, much as it pained him.

“As long as you keep this on, I suppose you can chat with him if you like.  After all, when the voice inside your head is truly a separate entity from your own mind, it’s more dangerous to ignore it than acknowledge it.  But please, love, be careful.”

Marco smiled at her, softly.  “I will.”

Giving his arm a squeeze, Hilda’s smile took on a touch more mischief, and with a sudden movement, she swooped down and nipped the icing off Marco’s nose before pressing a peck to his lips.

Clambering to her feet, she scooped up the tray of cupcakes and made her way down the aisle.

**That was** **_awesome._ **

“Yeah…” Marco grinned dopily. “It was….Renaldo.”

**Oh, for FUCK’S SAKE-**

 

***

**You’re kidding me.**

 

“I assure you, I am not.  Liam, Noah, William, James, Logan-”

**_Top 1,000 Baby Boy Names?_ ** **Are you** **_serious?_ **

“-Benjamin, Mason, Elijah-”

**I am shocked.  Appalled, really.  After all we’ve been through.**

“-Oliver, Jacob, Lucas, Mic-wait.  What are you doing. What the fuck is that.”

**Oh, NOW you listen up?**

“No, seriously.  What.”

**I can’t fucking hear you over my UKELELE.**

“How...how are you playing a ukelele in my BRAIN?”

**LALALALALALA**

“Stop it.”

**I’m a** **_sex demon,_ ** **ever heard of a mindfuck?**

“Why, you little-”

**I WANNA SHAKE, I WANNA WIND OUT-**

“No, seriously, HOW?”

**I WANNA LEAVE THIS MIND AND SHOUT- which really is ironic, you know-**

“Okay, FINE!” Marco slammed his laptop shut and glowered at the opposite wall. “I’m not reading them anymore.”

The incubus gave a final, defiant strum and cackled.  Marco massaged his temples, feeling a headache coming on. Were there any cupcakes left?

 

***

 

Saturday mornings were lovely, warm and sweet and soft.  Hilda was still asleep, face half buried in her pillow and deep, slow breaths being released in hot little puffs between them.  Marco found that he couldn’t help but smile.

However, it was difficult to hold onto the sleepy contentment of the morning while he was having a hissed argument with his sex demon.

**That thing she did to our-**

“ _ Mine,  _ not yours-”

**Whatever, dude, it was AWESOME, I think I’m bloated, honestly-**

“You don’t get  _ bloated-” _

**Yeah, and I don’t play ukelele either.**

“That’s not the -- we’re not talking about that!”

**I’m honestly too blissed out to care right now, so…**

“Bliss- _ blissed out?? _  For the love of -- I get  _ chained up _ every time Hilda and I have sex so that YOU don’t snap her neck or drain her dry or WHATEVER and you’re just  _ blissed out?” _

**...I wouldn’t snap her neck.**

“Bullshit.”

**Marco-**

“Mmmmm…” Hilda nuzzled deeper into the pillow, crinkles appearing briefly at the corners of her eyes before she slowly blinked them open.  A lazy grin pulled at the corner of her mouth that wasn’t buried in her pillow. She was breathtaking.

Marco exhaled deeply, reached up a hand to caress her cheek.

“Good morning, my love.”

The absence of the demon’s routine gloat made their kiss that much sweeter.

 

***

 

There were no clean lines, no divisions between mortal and magical that could hold up to any real strain when it came to compartmentalizing the occult.  Of course, calling an incubus to himself had been the start of it all, but his willing and enthusiastic association with a family of witches had forever tipped the scales of Marco’s life in favor of magical interference.

And now…

Now.

It didn’t matter who or what it was.  He barely had an idea, himself. They had been taking their tea together, just sharing a sweet and almost painfully mortal moment at the back of the shop, and for all the reading on magical defenses that Sabrina had slipped him, he should have done more, anything that could have better prepared him for  _ the love of his life in pain, screaming before him, the Creature looming over her and he could do nothing, nothing- _

**MARCO!**

He was trapped within some invisible barrier, like a spider beneath a drinking glass, and he flung himself against it again and again, desperate to reach Hilda-

**Marco, LISTEN TO ME!!**

“Shut UP! Now is NOT THE TIME, Hilda, HILDA-”

**Marco,** **_let me help._ **

“How the FUCK-”

**Just like the witch hunter, HURRY UP, WE’RE LOSING TIME-**

Another scream from Hilda pierced through the barrier and Marco snarled, ripping the Damascus bracelet off and-

Chaos.

 

***

 

It was over.

Hilda was being tended to by her sister.  Zelda had promptly kicked a protesting Marco out, citing a need to concentrate without mortals breathing down her neck.  Standing on the back porch of the Spellman home, Marco worried the frayed edges of his torn shirt, knuckles white with tension.

“Why did you do it,” he asked, monotone.  Staring out across the field, his voice seemed small, swallowed up in the night.  His shoulders were stiff, tight, even for having been flung across the room several times.  “You saved her. Why.”

**I told you.**

“When?”

**I tried, that morning -- I told you, I wouldn’t snap her neck.**

“There’s a huge leap from  _ I wouldn’t kill her  _ to  _ I would risk my life to save her. _ ”

**It’s not like either of us would have survived much longer after her, you know.**

“Except, instead of getting us the hell out of there once you broke us out, you instead went  _ towards _ the danger.  You almost got yourself killed for her”

**Don’t be modest.  I almost got you killed, too.**

“Don’t be evasive.”

**Who, me?**

“You  _ risked your life for her-” _

_ “ _ **OUR lives-”**

“And then you put the bracelet back on my wrist.”

 

**...**

 

“Uncle Cee?” Marco started, turning to find Sabrina just inside the door.  “Auntie Hilda’s awake. She wants to see you.”

The demon said nothing, yet again, but as Marco rushed up the stairs, nearly tripping over his own feet and bowling over Ambrose, he was aware that his breathless chanting, “thank you, thank you, thank you,” was not meant for any deity.

 

***

 

**You haven’t tried to guess my name, lately.**

Marco blinked.

“No, I suppose I haven’t.”

**I mean, you were terrible at it.**

“Thanks.”

**Really and truly awful.**

“You’ve made that clear-”

**I mean, OLIVER?? You think there are demons running around named OLIVER?**

“What’s wrong with Oliver?”

**What’s wrong with- you’ve read exactly HOW MANY books on magical creatures and your best guess was OLIVER??”**

“Well, I mean, I know the big, ancient incubus names. Lilu, Popo Bawa, Iideric, etc.”

**Then?**

“Then what?”

**What was with the whole** **_Top 1000_ ** **crap?**

“Each of those names existed in the context of the society in which those incubi lived. I thought-”

**You thought my dear Mother Below named me Oliver.**

“It’s not like any of your ancestors were name Asmodeus or Mephistopheles.”

**But still-**

“Why are you so hung up on that one, specifically?”

“Darling?” Hilda poked her head in.  A fading bruise on the side of her neck was all that was left of the attack, and her eyes sparkled as they always had.  “I made some biscuits for those muscle aches, and they should be ready in just a bit.”

Marco smiled.  “I’ll be there soon.”

**She’s the best.**

Marco echoed the demon’s dreamy sigh.

“Yes,” he murmured as he gathered his things and stood. “She really is.”


End file.
